


This is Real

by impulse_baker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas misses Dean, Dean and Cas finally get some lovin, Depressed Castiel, First Time, It Gets Better, M/M, No British Men of Letters, No Mary Winchester, Post Season 11, Profound sex...I mean bond, Schmoopy smutty mess, deep depression, tender love and care, this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulse_baker/pseuds/impulse_baker
Summary: Castiel and Sam return to the bunker after Dean confronts Amara. Castiel keeps his promise to watch out for Sammy after Dean is gone, but he can't take care of himself as he falls into depression. His mental health is slipping, but Dean comes back to fix his angel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Slinks out of hole* Here, have some sadness and emotionally fueled smut. *Crawls back into hole*

Castiel went about the day as normal, well, as normal as he was capable of. His grace was back at full power - full  _mojo_ as Dean would've said - so he didn't need to sleep, but after being human he was able to appreciate it. So every night he would will himself to fall into a state of unconsciousness until the sun rose. Then he would shower, wear the blue suit and trench coat he was accustomed to, and prepare a nice breakfast for Sam, clean the bunker, and attend to the younger Winchester as best he could. Some days he would not want to get up, not want to look at Sam and be reminded of the man they lost. But then he would dutifully get up and do his best to take care of his friend because he promised Dean. He would fulfill his promise and stay by Sam's side until the Earth ceased to exist, and he would continue to watch Sam in Heaven, because that was the last promise he made to Dean. He would watch out for Sammy.

It had been almost two weeks since Dean was able to overcome Amara, saving them all. It had been two weeks since the Righteous Man made his final sacrifice, but for Castiel every day felt like an eternity. There were times before all of this when the angel would not see the hunter for days at a time, but he always had the reassurance of knowing he was a phone call away. And he always had the comfort of Dean's constant prayers to him. For all those years, Dean prayed constantly to him, though the hunter was probably unaware he was doing so. And when Castiel explained to Dean how, as an angel he could sense his longing, the prayer and the longing only increased. But now, he knew there was nothing. He often imagined he could hear his green eyed friend calling out to him. He was of course hallucinating. The forlorn desire and need he felt had to only be his own, or otherwise it was just that he had become so used to it that he couldn't  _not_ feel it.

Today was a particularly difficult day for the angel. His body ached, he felt hollowed out and tired. He performed his duties to the younger Winchester and retreated to Dean's room, which was where he would sleep. Sam was outside working on the garden he started as a therapeutic activity, so Castiel knew he could have a few hours with himself.

The angel sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the book from Dean's nightstand. He ran his fingers along the smooth pages and imagined how his friend looked when he read. He remembered how he liked to lie down on his back, head propped up with his forearm against the headboard, book open on his chest against his other hand. Castiel clutched the book to his chest and sank to the floor. His throat began to constrict and moisture pooled at his eyes. His chest heaved with the invisible crushing weight and his breathing became labored, painful. He slumped against the nightstand and let out a broken whimper. His breaths came out as low whines and he rocked his body against the furniture, curled up in fetal position. 

He missed Dean. He missed his constant references to pop culture. He missed his corny jokes and puns. He missed his habit of playing music too loudly. He missed the way he looked so at ease behind Baby's wheel. He missed the way he shuffled his feet in his slippers early in the morning, dressed only in boxers, a t shirt and his robe. He missed his stubbornness, his constant concern for others, his disregard for the rules, his frustrating inability to see how loved he was. He missed those green eyes that changed with the light, his lips that were somehow fixed in a pout, the soft short tufts of neatly kept golden hair. All of these things weighed down individually on Castile as he cried, yearning for the hunter.

He had served Heaven for countless millenia, then gave up everything to save the world, multiple times, risked his life for the greater good on countless occasions, and in the end it amounted to nothing. There was no reward, only the promise of endless suffering. When Dean confronted Amara, he was sent to the Void which meant even in Heaven or Hell or Purgatory, Castiel would never be reunited with him. He lost everything trying to save  _God_ for crying out loud, and even with such a feat, such a service, he was deprived of happiness.

He had experienced every kind of torture, but the pain he felt now in this state of despair was the worst feeling he had ever experienced. This was worse than being cut with an angel blade, worse than getting pins stuck in his head, worse than the toxic attack dog spell. This pain eminated from inside him and felt like his grace was steadily seeping out of every pore in his body. 

He sat there sobbing, regretting his existence, aching for release, not hearing the sound of footsteps approaching his door. And then suddenly everything ceased to exist.

Castiel stared at the doorway through puffy, tired eyes and couldn't move. He was hallucinating again, only more vividly. He could so clearly see green eyes and that perfect cupid's bow above parted lips and bowed legs and freckles and flannel and denim. The longing and prayer resonated inside him and he broke down crying harder. He so wanted it to be real. He was so broken he was-

"Cas,"

There was no mistaking the gentle deep voice belonged to his hallucination. He shut his eyes and shook his head. He needed to be stable if he was going to take care of Sam. He tried to steady himself but then strong arms enveloped him and he found himself cradled to a strong chest with a steady beating coming from inside. Firm, calloused hands were stroking his back, his arms, the back of his head and neck. A gentle but sure press of lips was on top of his head and he felt a drop of moisture escape his hallucination and saw it fall to the floor.

"You're...you're not even...this isn't real. Dean, where are you? This isn't real...I need you Dean," he said in between broken sobs. It felt so incredibly real but that was impossible. Dean was gone. The hunter,  _his_ hunter was gone.

"Cas, it's me buddy. Shh, it's OK, I'm here. I got you, I'm here."

Strong hands reached and put both palms on his face, cupping his jaw and bringing his face up to stare into red rimmed green eyes with dark circles sitting underneath. He stared into them, unable to believe what was happening. This was impossible. The hallucination's face wore a sad smile, brows drawn together, tears threatening to spill, lips curled up ever so slightly. 

"Cas, buddy, it's me. I'm here. I'm home." Castiel looked down, but the hallucination put his knuckle under his chin to lift his face back up. "Look at me. It's me. It's Dean. I'm back. I came back."

"No you're dead. You're gone. You're not real. None of this is real."

Then the hallucination laced their fingers together and brought Castiel's hands up to his face, kissing each knuckles, then kissing the back if each hand reverently. "Does this feel real?"

He let go of the angel's hands to cup his face again and leaned in to kiss his nose and each of his eyes. "Does this feel real?"

He pressed a kiss to his cheeks softly and pulled back to search blue eyes for response. "Does that feel real?"

"Yes...but it can't be. We lost you. I have to take care of Sam...I'm not OK...I promised...Dean!" Castiel's tears stopped but his breathing was still shallow and hard.

The hallucination brought his lips to the angel's forehead and then to his hair and held his head against his chest. "Cas I promise it's me, this is real. I'm real, I'm here. Everything is OK buddy."

Castiel wanted this to be real. It felt beyond real, but the real Dean would never do anything like this, never be so affectionate, so tender and open. He shook his head against the rock hard chest. 

"This isn't real."

Their faces were brought together again, mere inches apart, and he could feel his hallucination's breath on his face and his hands on his jaw. Green eyes flitted briefly to the angel's lips before locking again with blue. "Castiel, self-sacrificing, stubborn, dumbass, loyal, trusting, blue-eyed angel of Thursday, it's really me. It's Dean. I'm real." He then let his eyes flutter closed slowly while tilting his head and leaning in to kiss him. It was gentle and warm and sure. Their lips were unmoving, but softly slotted together. They moved apart to cath their breaths and Castiel opened his eyes and really looked at the man. "Did that feel real?"

"Dean?" The angel was overwhelmed. This was unmistakable. The man was real. Castiel touched his face, tracing over his brows, nose, lips, jaw. Began his hands over his shoulders and arms and squeezed his hands. He stared at him. This was unbelievable. This was...a miracle. 

He threw his arms around Dean's neck and lunged forward, propelling them both to the ground, and held on for dear life. All prior reservations seemed lost between the two. The previous insecurities disappeared and they expressed their affection without abandon.

"Dean, Dean how are you here? What happened? We thought we lost you!" He said into his neck, still unwilling to let go.

Dean laughed lightly, rubbing circles into his angel's back. "You know, just had to play Dr. Phil for God and his sister, that's all."

"So you're OK?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm OK."

"What took you so long?"

"I had no clue where I was, no service, no money, nothing. I more or less walked here."

Castiel suddenly felt guilt wash over him. The prayers, the longing he sensed these past two weeks weren't imagined; Dean was actually calling out to him. And he was too busy wallowing in his grief to understand. "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I could have found you-"

Dean silenced him with another kiss, this time less gently. "I'm here now, that's what matters. Is Sammy OK?"

"He's holding up. We started a garden to give him something to focus his mind on."

"Are you OK?"

"I will be now. Just don't go anywhere Dean. I could face a thousand deaths before I could face separation from you again."

"I'm not going anywhere you big sap." Dean smiled, actually smiled.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I felt overcome with regret and anger when I thought you were lost to us," he held up his hand to silence Dean before he could say something. "Let me finish. I was angry with myself because I thought I let you die without, as you would put it, spilling my guts to you. I was regretful because I thought I lost my final chance to tell you what I have been too cowardly to tell you the last seven years." He paused to prepare himself for the revelation. Despite Dean's affections minutes ago, he was still apprehensive about what his declaration would do to their friendship.

"Dean, I... I hold you in the highest regard." 

"Okay...umm me too buddy," Dean sounded amused but confused.

"Dean, I have the utmost esteem for you. I- I have feelings of appreciation for you in the highest level. I ardently respect you, Dean."

Dean's face was twisted in a large smile that he was doing nothing to hide. "What are you trying to say, Shakespeare?"

"I umm...DeanWinchesterILoveYou." He rushed through it, slurring the words together, wincing in preparation for the repercussions.

Instead of being met by scorn, he was kissed. He was kissed sincerely and passionately and he'd be damned if he didn't kiss back. He kissed as if his life depended on it, and at that point, it did. His Hunter's tongue prodded softly at his lips and the angel granted him entry. They explored each other's mouths and moved into the kiss, adjusting angles for better access. It started off chaste but both man and angel's needs grew. Dean pushed Castiel's coat to the ground, followed by his suit jacket. The angel knew what he wanted but was unsure how to go about it with Dean, and therefore gave him control, eager to follow his lead. 

The hunter removed the tie from around his neck, letting it join the coat and jacket. His fingers began working at the buttons of his white dress shirt and when his chest was exposed, Dean stopped to breathe and look into the deep sea of blue that was staring back at him.

"Cas, is this...is this what you want?"

"Dean," the Angel leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Don't ask stupid questions."

Dean laughed and Cas relished in the sound he thought he'd never hear again.

"Alright then, angel." The new nickname sent Cas into a flurry of emotions. He liked feeling again, and these were particularly pleasant feelings.

Dean took the white shirt off and moved to work at the belt, skillfully managing to take that off, unbutton his pants and strip him down to his boxers. He did the same with his own clothes, finally sitting with Cas in only their underwear. They were both slightly out of breath, but couldn't be separated for long. Dean stood up, motioning for Cas to do so as well and then he gently laid the angel flat on his stomach down on the bed. He then joined him, straddling his waist. Cas was about to try and turn around to face him when strong hands started kneading into his back. He immediately melted into the touch.

"Dean, what are-"

"Shh just let me take care of you, angel."

There was no way he could argue with that. Dean's expert hands massaged his back, easing all the tense muscles. He worked his way up and down his back, to his shoulders, up his arms, paying special attention to his palms, knowing how relaxing that was. He then put his hands on Castiel's ass and rubbed firmly, earning the softest of moans. Then he moved down his legs, not continuing until the man beneath him felt like putty in his hands. Satisfied with his work, he turned the sated angel on his back and massaged up from his feet. He then rested his forearms on either side of his head and kissed him tenderly. He trailed his lips down his jaw, over his throat, pausing at his chest. He began laving at each nipple with the flat of his tongue eliciting more moans. He smiled and flicked one erect nub with his tongue and the other with his finger. Cas' back arched as Dean started a pattern of licking, sucking, flicking and gently nibbling at the hardened flesh, alternating between the right and left. 

He put his hands on the angel's shoulders to calm him, as he continued down, until he reached his boxers. Slowly, he pulled the white fabric down to free the throbbing appendage, standing at attention, in need of Dean's touch.

He started with soft licks at the head, circling it with the tip of his tongue, watching the angel grab two fistfuls of the comforter. Dean then took the tip into his mouth and sucked softly a few times before taking the whole length into his mouth. He could feel the head at the back of his throat and his nose was nuzzled in the dark curls at the base of his angel's cock. He swallowed once, twice, a third time, constricted his throat around the head before coming up for air, releasing Cas with an obscene pop. A string of saliva still connected Dean's lip to his erection, and he looked down to see the beautiful green eyes staring back with a smile. 

Not breaking eye contact, Dean, wrapped his hand around the throbbing dick and stroked at the base a few times, moving up closer the tip. He then took his angel's cock into his mouth and sucked hard, earning a loud moan. 

"Oh Dean...Dean... Heavens, that is good."

He moved his mouth to kiss and nibble at his muscular inner this, still stroking the shaft, thumbing the precum over the head.

"Dean, I feel...I'm going...I'm not going to last much...longer-"

The hunter stopped working his hand up and down his erection to crawl over Cas' body.

"Cas, I'm going to make you feel so good. I'll make it better, angel. I promise I won't let you down."

The angel almost questioned what Dean meant by the last declaration, but the only sound that escaped his mouth was a surprised moan when he felt the finger tracing around Cas' tight opening.

"Do you trust me?"

Cas nodded his head enthusiastically, making Dean chuckle. "I need to hear you say it."

"For Heavens sake Dean, yes yes, please, continue!"

Cas heard the bed squeak as Dean distributed his weight differently on the bed and saw him reach into a drawer, rummaging around until he brought a tube of  _something_. He then flipped open the cap and squirted the substance onto his fingers generously.

"Close your eyes, angel. Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good."

As soon as Cas complied he gasped, hands clenching his fists more. Deans slick finger had breached his hole, moving in and out. There was a slight burn, but soon the sensation became pleasant. Dean gradually added more fingers slowly scissoring and stretching, always caring to be gentle. Cas was rocking his hips against the fingers, reduced to a succession of moans and sighs and repetitions of Dean's name, like a prayer.

"Are you OK Cas?"

"Heavens, yes, yes! I need...Dean...I want...more. Please. I want more." He mummbled.

Dean removed his fingers slowly and applied lube to his own aching cock, which until then had been left ignored. He lined himself up with Castiels stretched hole and brushed the tip against the rim.

"Are you ready?" He asked gently.

"Yes Dean... Ready." He panted.

Inch by inch, he fed his cock in until he was balls to ass. He waited for his angel to become used to the new stretch before he hooked his legs over his shoulders, planting a kiss on each of his ankles, then pulled out halfway and started moving his hips, keeping a steady rhythm. On the third thrust he found Cas' prostate, making the angel's back arch completely off the mattress. He moaned wantonly, making indiscernible noises until Dean realized he was muttering in Enochian. Dean angled himself so that each thrust brought contact with that sweet spit that drove Cas crazy and the sight of him coming undone sent him to the edge. He couldt, he wasn't going to last much longer. So he took hold of Cas's member with a lubed hand and started stroking. 

"Yes...Dean...oh I'm going to...ahhh!" Ropes of white painted Cas's chest and stomach as the hunter stroked him through his orgasm. At the same time, he felt his release fill the inside of the angel and his entrance tightened, milking him for all he was worth.

Spent, they collapsed together, in a panting, satisfied tangle of limbs. Cas Mojo's away the mess they had made and settled into his hunter's arms. When he was able to catch his breath, Dean kissed Castiel again, long and deep. 

"I'm home, angel. This is real."

 


End file.
